


Shattered Glass

by sea_side



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Time Travel but I won't call this a fix-it, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will trying to be nice for once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_side/pseuds/sea_side
Summary: The night Will Graham chose death was the last moment in his life that made sense, before the miracle happened, that let time turn back, without reassembling the shreds inside him.He now wanders through his past, condemned to relive it all again, surrounded by lives that aren’t broken yet but eventually going to be.He knows they deserve to be saved.But how would he do that without getting in the way of the man he loves? Their reunion is inevitable and Will isn’t prepared for it at all, with his fortresses still in ruins, fear and guilt flooding out of the breaches and with the dearest wish to show all his passion to the man who doesn’t even love him yet.And he might be gone crazy after all, because how could all of this be real?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 44
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

It was the night when Will Graham stood face to face to Hannibal Lecter, when all differences between them seemed to be buried under deep black liquid that glittered so beautifully in the bright light of the full moon. It’s damp, metallic scent covered them both and they stood so close to each other that he felt he could melt into Hannibal any second. It was the night Will Graham chose death. 

Everything he had ever possessed and fought for was turned into a pile of shreds that cut right into his soul. In it’s pieces, the night that revealed itself to him in all it’s beauty was reflected, both like a taunt and a comfort. It hurt to embrace and it hurt to refuse. He had never felt so close to Hannibal before and the urge to surrender to his feelings was so strong he feared to suffocate if he refused. He had choked on it for years now. Relentless as it was, he still feared it deeply, even though he had kept coming back for more, year after year. 

Now, with his pulse still pumping in his veins, he knew he was so close to the edge, one more step towards Hannibal and he would cling to him forever, embracing what came with a horrible price. It was triumph as it was failure, the outcome of their insane dance they had performed together, graceful but destructive. Will felt how it teared him apart, how he lost the person he had been piece by piece. The euphoria from their last dance was still raging inside him. If someone applauded now, he knew he would bow, bursting with pride. But it was all quiet except for the blood rushing in his ears and he knew that he had only one last chance to preserve this silence.

When Will let his head slowly sink on Hannibals shoulder and the comforting warmth of the other body welcomed him, the walls inside him broke and the flood descended upon him. It made him sob helplessly into the other man’s blood-soaked shirt. Then he pulled him into a gentle hug and the way it was returned without hesitation hurt even more. He could only silently beg for forgiveness as he allowed himself one last loving gesture towards the other man. Carefully stroking Hannibal’s shoulder while shivering at the touch, he desperately tried to show him what would never escape his lips. 

Will begged him to understand, when he gave both of them a gentle push that made them float slowly over the edge of the cliff. Hannibal didn’t fight it, as if he’d rather die with him than life without him. What could be a victory for Will made him suffer more than a knife in the guts. For a few elevating seconds the sky turned around with the deep sea glittering over their heads and the moonlight shining under them, all vertiginous and pretty. 

Will clutched dizzily at Hannibal and hated himself for it, because it wasn’t only a sign of his desperate love but also his hunting instinct that wanted to make sure his prey won’t escape this time. He wished that Hannibal had fled when he still could, but they both had chosen their fate and their suffering. Tonight he would release them both.

When they crashed into the ice cold surface of the ocean it broke like glass and sent silver shreds flying all around them. They got caught into their bleeding wounds, setting them on fire as they dived into the darkness. Will gave a silent cry, carelessly pressing all the air out of his lungs. The black water made him blind and deaf, he could only sense with terror that he lost Hannibal out of his grip. He realized he had just murdered his love, all comfort if there ever had been one was washed away and the sea kept ripping them apart. Will’s muscles cramped, trying to hold onto Hannibal while he choked at a sob that filled his lungs with ice. He struggled in panic, but his movements were aimless and the surface was already far away. When he noticed his hands were empty and he was all alone, he felt he just made his most horrible mistake.

The white light of the full moon was shimmering so beautifully in the black, liquid sky above when the darkness finally swallowed him.

But then it suddenly faded away and took the cold with it. Will still felt the moisture on his skin but also something warm, soft and heavy. Even the dark was getting softer, the cold white moonlight transformed into bright, hot red. When Will turned to face the light, he found himself staring in bewilderment at his alarm clock that was completely unaffected by his terrible fate. He deeply inhaled, still feeling the ice cold water in his lungs but it was all gone. Will was breathing freely, and after a while he started palpating his cheeks, his arms, his clothes. There was no blood, it’s scent was gone and he could only smell his own sweat. He was alone and he was at home.

His mind was spinning when he went up and made his way downstairs in the dusk. His body was completely unscathed and he could move about without pain. He found his dogs sleeping downstairs and made an effort not to wake them up when he opened the door and stepped outside. The sight of a glowing crescent at a starry sky made him almost recoil. While he stood there, marveling at his surroundings it was all quiet, a meaningful silence that seemingly wanted to tell him something but he didn’t understand. His cheeks were still wet and it felt like a cold touch.

Suddenly, something actually touched his leg and he spun around, just to see that Buster was awake and curiously nudging him. Will whispered something to him as if the dog could explain what happened. Then he put him in his arms and walked back inside, digging his face into the soft fur of his thankful friend.

He spend the night by the side of his dogs, ruffling their fur from time to time and seeking comfort. The flood wasn’t over yet and Will didn’t know how long it would take him to rebuild his inner fortress. The fear didn’t leave him either, because he didn’t know what happened to him. Did he actually hallucinate entire days? Where was his family - and worse, what if he hallucinated them too? Did he go crazy without Hannibal and would he wake up in a shabby cell of an asylum in his clearest moments? He hold onto the feeling of warm fur under his hands that felt so real in this absurd moment, until he finally fell asleep.

The next morning slowly evolved into mere torture. Will found himself relegated to many years before, every single device that was able to show time and date insisted on a long bygone year. His old journal greeted him with the message that he had to give a by now obsolete lecture to students who most likely already graduated. He could’ve resisted it, but he didn’t even manage to kill his curiosity, and so he headed off to visit the past.

Nothing indicated that he was in the wrong place. The looks he received from students and docents alike, directly or behind his back, were just as wary and prying as always, and first of all annoying if he couldn’t distract himself from them. He watched everything from behind his glasses and reeled off his schedule. If his pulse was running, it was only because he was bursting with curiosity. 

When his performance was finished and he had endured the both doubting and fascinated applause from his students, finally someone entered the room Will expected to give some answers. However as the one only shook his hand to introduce himself, Will was very irritated.  
„We know each other…“ he said blankly, causing Jack Crawford to lift his eyebrows.  
„Right, we met in the Evil Minds Research Museum.  
Will felt his stomach turn.  
„That’s…not entirely wrong…“ he went on maundering helplessly while he still searched for evidence that told him they were both playing a game that wasn’t meant for him. If there was any, Jack didn’t let it show. He only looked at him with the doubting expression he used to cause to many strangers.  
There was a pause in wich Jack adjusted Will’s glasses, a uncomfortably familiar gesture.  
„You sure we haven’t met long before that?“, Will asked, being all at sea, while the feeling to drown was still very known to him.  
Mesmerized, he watched Jack considering his question.  
„No, I’m sorry, I’m sure I would remember you.“  
It was half a compliment and half a measure to change the subject. Jack wouldn’t be himself if he wouldn’t come down to business quickly. During their conversation, Will continued to give him a bewildered look and probably surprised him by agreeing immediately to his request and following him without protesting. He only went very quiet when he stood in front of their board, looking at the faces of the eight missed girls. Jack was compensated though by a flood of information that suddenly spilled out of Will’s mouth, wich a normal human being could’ve never noticed only from looking at the photos. Convinced that he had found the best profiler in the land he took Will with him to visit the family of the girl that had gone missing most recently.

Will felt sick. He submitted to all of this but he wished to be still at home while the curiosity in him died a slow and painful death. He fell quiet and didn’t look directly at anything or anyone. Sometimes he removed his glasses to test if this moment looked more real without having a lens in front of it, but then he suddenly felt more comfortable to hide behind it and watch everything around him like though a window into a dream world. Jack didn’t mind as long as he spoke up to do his magic.

The show went on. They visited the same people in the same house. Will’s good memory had never felt so much like a burden than right now. He stumbled upstairs to find the same girl dressed in a night gown, lying in her bed, strangled by the same killer. He was glad that Jack left him alone and he could lean on the wall to stabilize himself. His body was shivering and sweating, and not only because he could sense Garrett Jacob Hobbs everywhere in the room. No, it was what had happened to him that made him lose his mind. Was he crazy now? Would he ever know? The longer he stood in the room, the more his fear melted into the feelings of the killer and soon he saw himself stepping over to the bed, jumping at the girl and pressing his fingers on her throat. He choked her recklessly but also caring, as if it was the most gentle gesture he was capable of. Every single of his victims was precious and that’s why he would honor her too. Her throat was soft and warm under his hands. She was still fighting, but she would give up eventually and he couldn’t wait to experience this moment.

Beverly managed to startle Will a second time, but now her words ripped him out of his thoughts in a much more ungentle way. He found himself sitting on the ground, being a shuddering mess. The room slowly filled with FBI agents but he barely payed attention to them. He quickly picked himself up and presented his analysis, before he left the house with the excuse that he needed some fresh air. Jack had enough pity to call him a taxi to the airport, after Will had promised to be alright again tomorrow.

The panic faded away after all and while sitting in the plane he already regretted his escape. Crazy or not, he had definitely sensed Garrett Jacob Hobbs. He was free again, taking innocent lives as a desperate try to keep the one of his daughter for himself. Will didn’t want to sit idle and drown in self-pity. His regret put some life back into him and he made a decision wich outcome he couldn’t fully foresee. But he wasn’t at sea anymore, when he took the next flight right back to Minnesota. He didn’t endure anything. Instead, he would force the world to finally give him an answer.

Hours later Garrett Jacob Hobbs was clutched into Will’s arms, an almost apologizing embrace. He had a knife pressed at his throat that was just as soft and delicate as the girl’s he had touched not long ago. Will hesitated. He could smell the familiar, metallic scent again, the knife sparkled in the starry night and the feeling he had tried to defeat was cutting it’s way back into his mind. He fought it down with everything he had, he repeated to himself that this was a completely different situation. But doubt was crumbling his self defense and he feared to tear his soul apart for good.

Hobbs body was trembling under his hands, his terror was radiating from him. It had never crossed Will’s mind that it could be so hard to kill a murderer when he actually understood his feelings. He proceeded to stand in the dark, empty forest and his gaze was helplessly wandering around it. Suddenly a shadow approached him that slowly took shape, pale skin, dark hair, decent features but nothing out of the ordinary, showing a worried expression. Abigail Hobbs. He understood why his father had been afraid of losing her forever, he had felt the same way. But the girl he saw was deeply hurt, she had wounds in her body and her soul and was left with nothing but a horrible past.

Abigail turned her head and smoothed back her hair to expose a bleeding wound that caused him nausea. With the other hand she pulled down her scarf, showing the cut in her throat that had completed the work that her father had begun and Will failed to stop. He saw a girl who’s existence had been destroyed because of a man who couldn’t let go and Will understood he was the only one who could prevent it from happening again.

Abigail stayed by his side when he sliced open her fathers throat. He did it slowly, like in trance while the warm blood spilled over his hands and soaked his clothes. Then he let Hobbs gently sink to the ground and lingered for a while, breathing deeply in and out. He closed his eyes and listened to his inner voice, afraid of what it might say.  
The silence was still there.  
When he opened his eyes, he saw Abigail smile.  
„You see?“, she whispered.  
And after a while he smiled too.

He was still in trance when he made his way back home, clutching at the silence he had conquered for himself. It comforted and calmed him down and most of all it deadened the pain he had felt all day long in wounds that weren’t even visible anymore, but still burned. The nearer he came to his home the more his silence made place for an inner emptiness. Finally, he reached his house that was waiting so peacefully for him to close himself up in it’s insides and hide from the world as always. Everything still felt real, the cold handle, the rough wood, the creaking planks. His dogs greeted him eagerly, unaware of the blood he had on his hands. He would wash it away, let every sign of his act vanish and he knew the world would remain totally unaffected by all this. It didn’t give him an answer. There was no proof that he wasn’t insane, no proof, that the guilt that was eating him from the inside was unfounded.

He sat on his bed, preparing for the night he would spend alone again and missed Molly painfully.  
She had never seen the worst in him and had never attempted wether to drag him even more into insanity or protecting him from it. She had simply given him a normal life, set her trust into him and made him forget what was lurking inside him. At her side, he hadn’t felt like someone’s lab rat, he had felt like a human being. He prayed he could see her again, but he doubted that god would answer. If there was a god in this world, he’d rather gloat.


	2. Chapter 2

Sleep was long in coming. Will spent most of the night tossing and turning in his bed. He was incredibly tired but still too alert to relax. His pulse was raging, making him feel like he was on the run from someone. At some point he saw shadows emerge from the walls. They began to dance around him while he tried to ignore them.

Suddenly a scream from somewhere downstairs reached his ear and made his blood turn cold. He was sure he recognized Molly’s voice, so he jumped to his feet with surprising alacrity but when he tried to run he could barely move. The dancing shadows had turned into deep black billows of smoke that blocked his view and burned in his lungs. With tears in his eyes, he struggled through the dark clouds and saw a glaring light shining in the distance. A blistering heat greeted him from downstairs, making him beg inwardly to find her in time. Standing on the stairs, he could only just look at the desperate expression in her beautiful face before she went up in flames. Will screamed as he saw her slowly melt, until she was swallowed by the black clouds of smoke, wich now towered in front of him.

Spreading their burning red wings, they revealed their true shape. Will recoiled, stumbled backwards, grasped at whatever was there until his fingers closed around a kitchen knife, even though he didn’t know how that could help him against a monster made of pure fire, that just now made a dash at him. He ducked, his first blow cutting right into the glowing skin and singing his fingers, his back and his hair in the heat that immediately broke through the open wound. Hiding behind a kitchen counter, he survived the first eruption of flames the angry dragon sent towards him, and when it came closer he rammed the blade into it’s side. The pain caused the beast to stagger, roaring and whipping it’s tail. Will was patient now, he waited for the right moment before he jumped at the dragon and rammed the now glowing blade into it’s heart. He was still cutting deeper when the beast already crumbled down. He expected it’s fire to burn him again, but this time a pleasantly warm liquid moistened his fingers.

Will realized in terror, that he had cut through human skin.  
Looking at his victim’s face, the sharp and noble features, the perfectly drawn parting of light hair and the keen look out of brown eyes that now showed nothing but disappointment, he was overwhelmed with remorse.  
He carefully palpated the wound, only to find out that he couldn’t help him anymore. Then he closed his eyes and laid his head on Hannibal’s chest, grieving about the loss until the flood broke through the walls and buried them both under giant black waves.

Their enormous weight pressed Will down on the floor, choking him, while the salty water burned in his wounds. He cried out, the loud rushing of the waves ringing in his ears, but soon everything started to fade away. Soon it would all be over…

Will wasn’t sure if he would’ve actually suffocated if his alarm clock didn’t save him. When he was awake he only lied in his bed gasping, clutching the sheets and realizing that he was indeed still alive. And completely soaked in sweat again. And still tired.  
Usually he’d take a cold shower to revive himself after such a restless night but the mere thought of cold water made his stomach turn, so he took a hot shower instead and completed the procedure with a very strong hot coffee. He didn’t feel any hunger at all. He fed the dogs and spent as much time with them as he could, before he reluctantly set off for Quantico.  
Will assumed he was a miserable sight today and he would get an earful from Jack for that.

This whole “back in time“ - show didn’t feel any better the second time, although the students didn’t notice much of it. Jack treated him as expected, as if his new profiler was already on the edge of insanity and Will couldn’t even deny that. He assured him he was alright, at least enough to carry on, but he knew what Jack was about to do anyway and that made him feel very nervous. 

Maybe his coffee had been a bit too strong, he thought while he walked down the hallways, ready to leave. He only stopped because he heard the sound of a familiar voice out of a lecture hall. Will couldn’t help standing at the door that was left ajar and peering inside, where he saw Alana Bloom give her course. Soon he hung on her every word, carried away by the cheerful serenity in her voice. She was a popular lecturer and he had always admired how she managed to talk with the students, not only to them.

However, this time he enjoyed the most that she was simply not broken, with no bitterness or disappointment in her tone yet and no sharp-eyed lurking in her movements. The mere sight made him promise he’ll do everything to keep her safe in this life. He had all the reasons to help her. She had been the first one to give him a sense of stability, even thought she had to contain her own curiosity about what was going on his mind. She had also tried to protect him from everything bad, not knowing how much she had needed protection herself. If time really turned back and made her shreds mend together again, he would make sure she’ll stay this way.

When he heard the applause he stepped away from the door and leaned at the wall, allowing the students to stream out without passing by him. He contemplated to engage Alana into a conversation. He hadn’t talked with her „old“ self for a very long time now, but he wasn’t sure if he made a good dialog partner right now.

„So you’re still here. I knew I’m not seeing things,“ Alana’s voice suddenly said. Will had been so deep in thoughts he hadn’t noticed her leaving the hall. Now her presence made him feel caught in the act.  
„I just happened to be nearby…“ he lamely said, trying to sound as casual as possible. He knew Alana didn’t buy it even without looking at her face.  
„How long did you listen to me?“  
„Uhm…a couple of minutes I guess. The subject was quite interesting.“  
„Really?“ Alana gave him a playful smile. „What did I talk about?“

„…the methods of psychodynamics,“ he answered blankly.  
„That’s the title. What did you hear?“  
She now examined him like a student who forgot his homework and Will wished he had listened to her more carefully.  
„Wait, is this an exam now?,“ he dodged the question, laughing nervously.  
She joined in the laughter but crossed her arms.  
„Will, what’s going on?“  
There was concern in her tone, the sort Will had heard very often in his old life. If only she knew what was really going on. Until now, no one seemed to know.  
Well, he could at least try to get something out of her.

„I wonder if you had a conversation with a certain Jack Crawford lately…“, he asked, still trying to sound casual and not taunting by any means.  
Alana froze for a second, looking caught in the act herself, before she also gave a nervous laugh.  
„Is this another ’interpretation of evidence’ or did you just guess it?“  
„The latter,“ he answered, „Even though Mr. Crawford obviously worries about the state of my mind. I guessed he’ll seek a second opinion.“

„Yes…he did,“ Alana admitted unwillingly. She was obviously very uncomfortable with talking about this. Will felt she was afraid he would ask her about her opinion.  
All the time she had avoided to analyze him in his presence and he had appreciated that very much about her. In addition, they were more or less alone in the hallway now, what made it even more complicated for her. Will asked himself if it was tactless of him to mess up her principles like that.  
„It’s alright, I don’t want to know,“ he assured her, still avoiding direct eye contact. Since his death he couldn’t look at anyone anymore. It wasn’t about what he could see in them, it was rather what they might see in him. He especially didn’t want to test Alana’s skills right now.  
She seemed to calm down, but there was something she still had to get off her chest.

„I won’t do it.“ she said definitely.  
„I won’t analyze you,“ she added, as Will turned to her with a wondering glance, hoping for something like a secret message. The disappointment in his face puzzled her.  
„Thank you“, he simply answered but he looked like he was about to say something different.  
He made her give away a secret she had never wanted to tell him.  
„I recommended someone to him…a friend of mine,“ she said in a soft tone.  
Thinking of this certain…friend, Will nervously wiped his forehead.

„You won’t do it yourself but you’re handing me over to someone else?“, he blurted out, making Alana wince a little. He immediately felt sorry for her.  
„I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t put my greatest confidence into him,“ she defended herself, afraid that Will would take this as a betrayal. „Jack would’ve chosen someone else instead.“  
But Will was surprisingly calm about this. Either that or incredibly skilled to hide the strongest of affects. He even nodded.  
„I guess you’re right. He’s persistent like that.“  
A pause ensued in wich Alana eyed him with a worried expression.  
„Will…if you don’t feel alright, you can stop anytime. You don’t have to torture yourself for this.“  
He looked into her eyes for a short moment, thinking about how wrong she was.

The rest of the day went by without any special incidents, also meaning that it didn’t give Will any answers and left him frustrated. In addition his conversation with Alana had reminded him of something that wasn’t helping his mental status either. The result was him now clutching the steering wheel with shivering hands and desperately trying to concentrate his attention to the traffic.

If he wanted to face the things he had to call the truth due to a lack of counter-proof, he really was back in the past, with no way out. But did he even want to get out? Yesterday he would’ve answered this question with a loud and clear „yes“.

But today he had met a cheerful, unwounded Alana Bloom.  
Not yet wounded, to be precise.  
Just like Abigail, he couldn’t abandon her to her fate, even though he knew how bold his intention was, especially if he was really doomed to revive every single day.  
If sleep didn’t release him tonight, granting him the freedom he had chosen.  
Will wasn’t sure if he would even sleep and it wasn’t because of his nightmares.  
He actually didn’t mind to meet Hannibal in his dreams.  
They only reproduced what had already happened, he knew how to play his role in them and they didn’t last very long.

It was the thought of meeting him here that sent waves of panic though Will’s body. He couldn’t handle the sheer inevitability of it.  
All he knew was that he had taken a final, destructive step and there was nothing left to say.

Will couldn’t decide what would be worse: if Hannibal knew what happened, would he forgive him again? He still remembered very well how his saw had worked on his scull. He would’ve died if they weren’t interrupted. But it wasn’t fear of death that sent shivers down his spine.  
How could he even look him in the eye after all this?

Then again, if Hannibal was completely unaware of Will’s betrayal, a scenario that was more likely since everyone else was too, then Will knew exactly what he was going to do and that knowledge added fear to guilt.

In his current state he couldn’t stop him. If he was thinking rationally he could tell himself that it had never been so easy to kill him, unsuspecting as he was. In his old life, he would’ve held onto this, made it his only purpose, with the thirst for revenge on his side. He usually didn’t allow himself any other feelings, always avoiding to think too much about Hannibal or even listening to his inner voice. However, in their last night he had said and thought things he couldn’t take back.  
Yesterday he had done something he couldn’t take back.

So he was driving his usual route back home, deeply lost in thoughts.  
After a while he was afraid he’ll get a seizure again and tried to distract himself instead, concentrating his mind at everything that was alright in his life. His dogs, mostly.  
All the time he had unconsciously searched the wayside, like he had been used to do since he found the first stray on the way to work.  
And then he noticed.

At first, he couldn’t believe it, he told himself he must be missing something, but the thought was already burning in his insides, adding to his fear. Now he felt sick after all. He wanted nothing but to get home quickly and assure himself that everything was alright. At the same time he kept observing the wayside of the road that was now painfully long. He just had to be mistaken.

When he finally arrived at home, he searched every corner of his house, followed by his cheerfully tail-wagging friends who had no clue that one of them was missing, the one Will should’ve saved when he was instead busy killing a murderer in Minnesota. When he realized the consequence of his spontaneous side trip, he got back in the car and drove out into the night, intending to not come back until he had found the stray who still needed a home. 

It became a very long night.

Will couldn’t tell how often he had cruised back and forth the streets, how often he had followed a shadow he had believed to see, how long he had listened to hear something rustle in the shrubs. Finally he had called the name the stray couldn’t even know yet, hoping he would at least follow the sound of a human voice. Will was still searching when the sun came out, with bright beams hurting in his eyes and telling him how tired he was. He didn’t want to give up, but when he couldn’t walk another inch and his eyes kept falling shut while driving, he had no choice. He reached home in a state of trance, unable to think about anything but his failure.

Despite not having many hours left for sleep he tumbled into bed, allowing the shadows to come back and dance again.


	3. Chapter 3

Will thought he had just lied down when the familiar ring ripped him out of his slumber. Completely foggy-brained, he crawled out of the bed with the only desire to make himself feel alive again. So he took an ice cold shower anyway, hardly remembering what had kept him from doing it the day before. He remembered again when he the feeling of drowning in an ocean took over his mind, but at least it shooed away the fog in his head. To extend the effect he poured down several cups of very strong coffee down his throat. He was still drugged with fatigue when he went to work. In hindsight it was the perfect mood to just give in to whatever the day brought for him, with his feelings numbed and unable to think any further.

Hours later he wasn’t sure anymore if his fast pulse was caused by the coffee or his own wrought-up feelings. It allowed him to give his lecture without falling asleep while standing, but the disadvantage was that the fog disappeared for good and all feelings conquered his mind again. Everything he couldn’t handle began to demand his full attention. 

He knew that Jack was waiting for him in his office, but he simply couldn’t set one foot into it. Even the glass walls before his eyes couldn’t protect him from what awaited him. In his desperation he walked up and down the hallways, looking at no one in particular but knowing that prying eyes followed him. Finally he had the urge to freeze his consciousness at least for a few seconds, and so minutes later he found himself standing in front of a sink filled with cold water. 

Eagerly, he dived into the glassy surface. As soon as the ice surrounded him, he felt his chest cramp, the urge to come up again, free himself from the dark hell that pulled him into it’s depths. In a way it brought him closer to Hannibal. He almost felt the soft cloth of his shirt between his fingers, how he clutched at it until it got ripped away from him. Will came nearer to the silence he was craving for.

But instead of giving in he instead made a jerky movement that pulled him out of the water. For a while he believed to see silver shreds flying around him, until he saw his own appalled face in the still very intact mirror. And not only his own.  
Gasping for air, soaking wet and shivering, he turned at Jack Crawford’s menacing figure that stood behind him.  
„What the hell are you doing?“, the raging voice greeted him.

Will clung to the brim of the sink, searching for an answer, only to find out that his panicking brain refused to give an explanation. Instead it screamed at him, that drowning was the only answer. Anxiety overtook him, the feeling of having failed, the feeling of being guilty, both paralyzed him, because there was no way out anymore. He had already failed. He noticed his hands lost the grip, before all his senses became numb and he fell unconscious. 

The first breath of air in awareness was like a revelation, like he woke up from a nightmare that was even worse than all the monsters and death itself. Now, he could take a day off and mentally prepare himself for the meeting, without having black circles under his eyes and an overdose of caffeine that made him tremble like a leaf. It was a beautiful vision that immediately melted into thin air when Will opened his eyes and stared directly in the brown ones of Hannibal Lecter.

Will froze, fighting his escape reflex, and still couldn’t turn away his gaze from the manifestation before him, that was so familiar but so surreal. He looked at him from head to toe, searching for any signs of hostility or disappointment, but he couldn’t find anything but slightly amused curiosity. Will noticed that he was staring and began to blink, turning away his gaze.  
„Mr. Graham…,“ Hannibal’s soft and quiet voice filled the air, with enough apprehension in the tone without being intrusive. It carefully broke through his fortress and brought him to the verge of tears. Just now Will realized how much he had missed this voice. 

„…how do you feel?“, the voice went on and Will, who had the urge to tell him the truth but couldn’t give in to it only gave him an apologizing look, before he asked: „Where’s Jack Crawford?“   
He was startled by how raspy his own voice was.  
„Mr. Crawford sends his apologies. He had an important call, so I promised him to stay with you until you wake up. My name is Hannibal Lecter.“

Will was tense, he quickly sat up on the sofa what caused his blood pressure to fail him and everything went blurry before his eyes.   
„Careful, Mr. Graham, your circulation hasn’t stabilized yet,“ Hannibal warned him and Will only nodded, rubbing his eyes, resting his head in his hands.

What he had experienced in the bathroom had been close to a panic attack, directly in front of Jack’s judging eyes. And that was how he met Hannibal again. Exhausted, soaking wet, anxious and helpless. He could guess what kind of a first impression he made. Ashamed of his weakness, he could barely endure how the other man examined him with curiosity. He shouldn’t see him like this, Will thought, nervously running a hand through his still moist hair. 

„Are you a doctor?“, he asked, only because he assumed it was a good question to ask a complete stranger who just sat next to him all the time he was unconscious.   
„Among other things, yes,“ Hannibal said mysteriously. „Mr. Crawford asked me to draw up a profile for a case he’s working on. The tabloid calls it the Minnesota Shrike.“  
„So..that makes us partners,“ Will blurted out. He wasn’t sure what he exactly meant with this.  
„Exactly,“ Hannibal agreed, seemingly with no second thoughts.

„I don’t want to be intrusive, but as your partner I feel responsible for your well-being,“ Hannibal went on carefully and Will thought he had a point.  
„You’re not intrusive.“  
„I guess you don’t usually have…sudden feelings of faintness.“  
„It wasn’t faintness. It rather felt like a panic attack,“ Will admitted. It was something Hannibal did to him. He felt like he could tell him everything and the secret would be safe with him. But there was still one terrible secret he couldn’t tell.

„You were afraid to die?“  
Will shook his head.  
„No, I was rather afraid to survive…,“ he stuttered before he could stop himself. Immediately, he had the feeling that he went too far and wished to leave this room as fast as possible.  
„Thank you for your help, Dr. Lecter,“ he muttered, biting his tongue at „Hannibal“, „I’m afraid I have a lecture now…“  
Hannibal noticed the sudden change of atmosphere but remained calm.  
„Well I won’t detain you here, but I must insist that you take a time out, at least tomorrow. I will talk to Jack and take over all responsibilities.“  
Will opened his mouth to protest, but one look from his unofficial therapist made him silence. He only thanked him again and fled the room.

Will jumped out of the bed when he heard a ring, staring at the alarm clock and startled by the time it showed, until he remembered that he had actually planned to take a day off and therefore turned off the alarm. With another glance at it he found out that it wasn’t making any sound. Puzzled, he asked himself if he was hallucinating again, but then he realized he might have a guest. That thought made his stomach turn once again. He remembered that Hannibal had payed him a visit in his old life, back then when he had been completely unaware of what was really going on. He had brought him breakfast, too, and it definitely hadn’t been vegetarian. 

Will stumbled into the bathroom, he urgently needed a revival. He couldn’t listen to his fears now. For all he knew, nothing had happened yet. He didn’t need any help with this case, but had he made that clear? Thanks to his faintness he wasn’t able to think about such important things anymore. But he had to admit that self-loathing didn’t help him neither. The mirror told him that he didn’t look any better than yesterday, if not worse. He tried to save what could be saved. He didn’t have much time anyway if he didn’t want to let his guest wait for too long. Even though he would be glad if they had given up already. But if the guest was Hannibal, he would still be there, persistent as he was. Will almost smirked at the thought.

Being somewhat presentable again he walked down the stairs, as upright as he could manage and as mentally prepared as possible. He had to bring himself to open the door and was actually a bit disappointed when he found nobody standing outside. Did he make all this effort for nothing? Searching, his gaze wandered from his garden to the street and eventually found a pair of eyes that looked just as confused as Will felt. Amidst the wet and gray lawn, that was partly covered in a thin layer of snow, stood Alana Bloom like a plant that was too late in flower, and now confused, because she didn’t know how she ended up here and wondered if she’d rather leave.

Will didn’t want her to leave, while he himself was quite puzzled, standing on his porch. So he called her name, loud enough so she couldn’t pretend to overhear it, turn away and go back to her car. Instead she came back, with a shy smile on her lips. With every step she came closer Will’s excitement grew. He couldn’t remember her to casually visit him before the incident with Abigail’s father. Did something happen she had to talk about? 

„Will, I…I’m sorry to be inconvenient…I just wanted to…drop by.“ Now it was her who shunned eye contact. Will realized she must’ve heard about what had happened to him yesterday and now she was worried about him. He was relieved as he was moved when he held the door open for her.  
„Alright, come in. I’ll make us coffee.“  
Alana went in and was given a warm welcome by the dogs.

She made very cautious movements, as if the house was filled with delicate china on shaky bases. Forcing himself to stop looking at her, Will made the coffee instead. It was a long time ago he just casually made coffee for not only himself. When he started working for the FBI he had found some new friends, but also lost some of them. Will didn’t know if he was even able to have a normal conversation anymore. Serving the hot drink he saw Alana seemed to ask herself the same question. She wrapped her fingers around the cup as if she had to warm herself up, before she was able to break the silence.

„How do you feel, Will?“

It was the second time someone asked him that question. The first time, he didn’t really give an answer, but he still felt like he wanted to tell someone the truth. A change in his usual ways, caused by the unofficial therapy. Will fought that urge again, he couldn’t pull Alana into this. He had to find another solution. On the other hand he couldn’t pretend that everything was alright, looking like he did.

„It looks worse than it is,“ he said and Alana made a face.  
„No, really,“ he fended off her silent protest, „I…just…went to bed too late is all.“  
„Do you even sleep?“ she digged deeper and Will started to stare at something seemingly interesting in a corner.

„Not much“, he muttered, struggling not to blurt out the truth and make himself look like a maniac.  
„Will, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but please take care of yourself. What Jack wants from you…you still don’t have to do it.“  
„Oh…you mean it’s because of my new ‚job‘“, he asked innocently.  
„You also don’t have to try the therapy if you don’t want to,“ she added, fixating the tabletop with her eyes.

„Alana…“  
„I feel like I’ve broken the rules…“ she told her coffeecup and Will understood.  
„I made you do it,“ he admitted, hiding that he had hoped for a completely different information.  
„Maybe.“ She looked at him again. „But I put you under pressure and I’m sorry for that.“  
„No, you didn’t.“ Will shook his head. „It was just fatigue with the addition of too much coffee that made my circulation fail“, he claimed, drinking some more.   
Alana lifted an eyebrow.  
„No worries,“ he assured her, „this is my first one today.“

„I woke you up, didn’t I?“ she asked him, still worried, but Will held up a hand to stop her.  
„Stop blaming yourself for everything. Nothing of this is your fault. I’m awake at night for a completely different reason…“ He remembered and let his hand sink, now worried himself.  
„Do you…want to talk about it?“ Maybe I can help you,“ she gently offered.  
Will locked gazes with her.  
He remembered that she had taken care for his pack when he was away, even adopted her own stray, so he told her.

Later, he had to admit he had forgotten what a good friend Alana was. Even though she had doubts about the sense of this whole endeavor she simply came along. He only had to promise her that he stopped searching if they didn’t find him, and so he did it with a heavy heart. It was still possible that the stray had found another family. No matter how serious the matter was for Will, he also enjoyed taking a time out with a friend, somewhere outside, wide away from all his nightmares and death. It made his search become less desperate while Alana secretly took more care about him than the stray. She didn’t even know if the dog they were looking for was really homeless. 

She was very surprised when she actually found him, dirty, shaggy, skinny and looking at her with big eyes from under a bush.  
„Will“, she called, half whispering to not scare the dog away. „Will, I got him!“  
Will had set himself in motion already when he had heard his name. He was with her in no time and suppressed tears of joy, seeing Winston alive and well.   
Running his fingers through the matted fur he thought that this was the first good day in his new life.


End file.
